It's so simple how one small change can destroy… everything. It's funny to me how one minor slip can cause a man to roll down a mountain, crashing through trees, landing on rocks, and then reaching the bottom, where he smashes into the landscape like a raindrop hits pavement. Just one tremor in his foot, and soon he's tumbling down into oblivion. I also find it funny how soon one forgets him, just a few days later, when the news crews all leave, and the body is six feet underground, and the family has all returned home after the funeral. It's forgotten so fast. We avoid the topic, and soon it dissipates. That one change, in the end… it mattered to the family for a short period of time. But we push it to the back of our minds like it's nothing. So does the family, after a while. So… did it matter at all, in the long run?
"It isn't fair!"
Fist collided with dusty rock, cracking a strong finger's paper-like joint. Blood dripped down next to the clenched hand, painting the cold ground an angry red. The stain began to twist left and right among the cracks, slowly finding its way to my foot. It stopped at the toe of my boot, unable to pass. The blood ceased to flow, like a river blocked on its path to the sea. I moved my toe, allowing it to pass.
It was frightening watching my brother cry. Alfred was never one to lose his composure. The only other time I had seen him cry was when I was very young, and my mother still lived with my father. Mr. Jones was a strong man, with strong business morals. He seemed to have everything together. It would all change at night, when he would come into our bedroom after an argument with our mother. Sometimes he had been drinking; we could smell it on his breath. Other times, he was just enraged at everything and everyone. But every time he entered with a weapon, and it didn't matter whether that weapon was a knife, or a lamp, or just his own hands. It was always meant for us.
There was one night when my father was very angry. He had just been fighting with my mother about what detergent to use. Of all the things they could have complained about, it was detergent. Alfred and I watched from down the hall, wondering what would happen, wide eyed and alone. My father could no longer control himself. With one swift motion he grabbed a painting from off the wall, metallic gold frame still attached, and came storming down the hall towards us. He pushed me aside and grabbed my brother by the hair. I felt helpless as I cried out to my mother, but she never came. She never even heard me. She was too afraid of him, too afraid of his strength and the power he wielded. My brother cried too as the frame came down, for the first and what I thought was the last time.
When we were both nine, my mother finally ran, both Alfred and I leaving the house as well. We moved from New York to Ontario, Canada, where we figured my father wouldn't be able to find us. She changed back to her maiden name, Mrs. Williams, to avoid any connection to him, and we lived in the suburbs of Toronto. Both of us enrolled in a new elementary school, and quickly grew accustomed to our new classes.
Alfred met a student on his first day, Arthur, who he attached to like glue. Arthur was a student who just moved from England to Canada with his family. His scores were the highest in the class. I always thought it strange that my not-so-bright brother would want to associate himself with someone who was always telling people the "I before e rule" and reciting one hundred digits of pi to people for fun. But I was very happy for him nonetheless. Arthur was the only person Alfred told about his past. He didn't judge him for it, either, just nodded and listened politely. Every other child would run or not want to come over, thinking our family was still a horrible mess. But Arthur would come over almost every day after school. The two of them would do their homework together, play ball together, and eat dinner together. They grew up closer than brothers. I didn't mind Alfred leaving me to go play with him. I was a child who would have rather been alone with a book or a sketchpad than out playing sports. For me, being social would mean talking to people, and I didn't like to speak. The sound of my own voice made me wince, because I sounded so much like my father.
There were times, though, that I did miss my brother. He would mistake me for Arthur, or Arthur would even mistake me for him. We were twins, but we didn't really look that alike, and it insulted me to be someone who I wasn't. I wasn't Alfred, I was Matthew. Matthew Williams. Alfred was still Alfred Jones, because he had been too stubborn to change his name. We weren't alike in the least. I forgave them every time they mistook me for someone, but in my heart I was dying to be noticed by both of them.
About a month into my junior year, strange things began happening with the nation. America had a new president in the election of 2032, who spent his campaign telling the nation all about his plans for the industrialization of the world. Our leader was foolish enough to go along. Soon, the people were being replaced with things. Things that looked like us. Things that talked like us. But they weren't us. Their hearts were cogs and gears, and their arteries were pipes, flowing with oil and wires. Robotic steel replaced workers, and soon people didn't have use for jobs, or even money. The robots would do everything perfectly for them. It was utopia. At least, until the machines began malfunctioning.
They banded together, a collective intellect, and began raiding homes for money and power. There was no need for this species anymore, a species of blood. The age of petroleum and wires had begun, and it was the most powerful empire in history. Millions, even billions of humans around the world were executed by these devices that once ran our world. Soon Toronto was next on their hit list. Alfred and I ran to Arthur's when a machine attacked our home, killing our mother in the process. Neither of us gave the other the time to grieve. The three of us went out into the countryside, hoping to escape the cities and find shelter out in the woods, where the machines wouldn't dare go. We determined that we would make a new nation, one with the remaining humans, and leave the entire industry behind.
But that dream ended just moments ago.
"It isn't fair!" Alfred shouted again, his voice hoarse with sobs.
"Alfred… you're going to hurt yourself. Please, calm down." I knelt down next to him and grabbed his hand. He pushed me away and continued raging towards the earth.
"Don't tell me to calm down! Don't tell me! You didn't know him! Not like I did!"
"Al…"
"H-he could still be alive, couldn't he? He could, right? Say you agree with me. Say it!"
I looked over at the young man lying on the earth. Arthur wasn't breathing. He didn't have a pulse. He hadn't moved for ten minutes. There was too much blood to even try to be hopeful. Looking at him laying there, I realized just how small he was. Just how insignificant this could have been. But it wasn't, not to my brother. Arthur was everything his pathetic little brother couldn't be. A playmate when he was younger, someone to study with, a shoulder to lean on. He deserved to have a small spark of hope. But now wasn't the time for last rights, or long eulogies.
"I can't," I muttered. "It would be a lie.
With a sickening, pitiful moan, Alfred curled up into as small a ball as he could muster. "Some brother you are, Matt," he muttered. "You should have done something."
"We both should have!" I shouted in return. The machines were coming closer now, their titanium feet shaking the ground beneath us with more force than any earthquake I had ever felt. It was hard to hear over the rumbling in their motor-like hearts. We had to get going, now. "We both should have helped Arthur and we didn't. But if you don't get over it, and if you don't get quiet, more of those things will be after us and we'll end up just like him. Not to be cynical, but for the love of God, grieve some other time!"
A heavy thud sounded behind me, along with the creaking of rusted joints. I leapt forward, narrowly avoiding the crushing foot of a nearly ten foot tall machine. In my head, it looked sort of like a bear, with heavy iron teeth and the a body made of an entire vehicle. You know, besides those little things.
I quickly reached for the little dagger I had created out of stone that was strapped to my thigh. Alfred still lay curled up in a fetal position, now silent, but still shivering uncontrollably.
"Get up!" I hissed at him, pulling him to his feet and dragging him along behind me. The thing didn't go very fast, thankfully. The three tons of iron wasn't very helpful when it came to moving. I laughed happily, like a maniac who had just escaped from prison. It had seriously thought it was going to catch us, and we just outsmarted it. "Just shows you how good humans can be!" I screamed with delight.
Then I ran into a hard surface. In front of us stood a smaller machine, but more dangerous looking none the less. It was sleeker, more feline, and moved with much more agility than the last. "Of course, an ambush." I shook my head as I dropped Alfred's arm. He seemed to have snapped back into reality, because he quickly grabbed some rocks from off of the ground and began threatening the machine by throwing them at its forehead.
The thing leapt at the two of us, jaws wide, revealing rows of thin, diamond teeth, clear and strong. I lunged to the side, and threw the knife at it, hoping to shred some of the cords that were sticking out around its back. My aim was off by just a hair, and I just hit the large cat on the thigh. It turned from Alfred and locked its unblinking eyes with mine. I could hear the gears turning in its haunches, preparing to spring towards me and unleash it's malice. I let it come. Getting me pinned would give Alfred the courage to actually do something, and I doubted something so refined could take be down so quickly.
Boy, was I wrong. At least two tons of metal came hurtling at my face, and I was struck to the ground with the force of hurricane winds. The breath was knocked out of my chest and I gasped for air as it tried to lock it's teeth around my throat. I could see a shadow standing aside, running at the machine. Alfred. But wait, Alfred was over there, on the other side. Who was that? My vision was becoming worse as I saw the two figures, one unknown and one familiar, sprinting towards the machine. Before I got a chance to fight back, I fell into darkness, hearing nothing but my own heartbeat for what would seem like a pleasant eternity.
Author's Note: Okay, I have nothing to say. Yes, I did kill someone off in the first chapter, and I'm not happy about it. I cried. Anyway... feel free to leave a review of anything you want me to hear. I love getting feedback, guys! It helps me know how to make my stories better!